>"NUUUUU!!!! NU HUWT BABEH! NU! NOOOO!!!" the fluffy mamma screams in agony.
>You snatch the foal from her.
>The baby screams and squirm in your hand.
>It has never left its comfort zone of fluff before.
>"I'm sorry." you say to the mother.
>The mother is confused.
>You twist the baby's neck and consume the flesh.
>While the act was brief, the baby was in agony for what can only be described as an eternity.
>You spit out the remains, bones left over fluff.
>The mother doesn't scream or move.
>She is in pure shock.
>So much so, she doesn't react when you pick her up and throw her against the dark alley wall.
>You devour her corpse as well.
>You exit the alleyway, drenched in blood in the dead of night.
 
>It was awful.
>You were stranded on an island after a plane crash.
>You were a lone pilot, transporting fluffy pony cargo to Asia when you crashed somewhere in the Pacific.
>All you had to eat were fluffy ponies.
>But you didn't want to. Pickings were slim on that island. You praised God when you found safe drinking water on that island.
>You were rescued a month later.
>You made an excuse of the ponies going feral, warring with each other, ultimately killing each other off, but the rescue team knew their true demise.
>You have not integrated back into society.
>You still crave fluffy flesh.
>Sure, you go for ferals and strays, but how long can it last?
>It's been a year. It has to stop sometime.
>But the stomach wants what it wants.
>Fluffy ponies are a lot like Lays Potato Chips.
>You can't have just one.